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blaisenova · 7 months

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I got a request, and if it's okay can it be platonic?

If it can, how about classic and Error friendship? Cause Error hates aus, and classics the original.

but of course!!

i fucking love the man child, and, naturally, i adore myself some classic too. funnily enough, this is actually a dynamic i don't often see explored, and it's one i've definitely neglected in my own years of making undertale content. BUT THAT ENDS TODAY!!

i'm not sure if you had anything specific in mind, but i just kind of came up with an idea and ran with it, so hopefully it turned out okay LOL. i'm pretty content with it. i always love putting error in space, as a treat.

story is below the cut, and i'll reblog with the ao3 link once it's posted there, but you, my dear tumblr user, get to see it first <3

thanks so much for the request!!

The multiverse was an infinitely expanding place, much to Error’s chagrin, and that meant that there were some rather peculiar concepts out there. Error had never been one for the unusual, though, so the more bizarre corners of the multiverse served to do nothing but piss him off. Really, there were very few universes that he genuinely appreciated the existence of, and those were Undernovella, Outertale, and Undertale. The first and second were, admittedly, born out of a particular bias – Asgoro was just such a compelling character. And who doesn’t like space? Sue him! – and the third was because Undertale was the only real universe out there; the rest were nothing but mistakes; accidents; copies that didn’t print quite right. So, naturally, when given the opportunity to bother one of the Classic Sanses of the multiverse, Error leapt at the opportunity.

It wasn’t exactly uncommon for him to be met with a Classic in his line of work, especially considering the special care he took with them; all it took was one fool’s mistake to turn an Undertale into something else entirely, after all, and that was the last thing Error wanted. There should only be one Sans per universe, both in and out of the timeline. Any… extras were glitches already – Errors, if you will – so, really, it was a mercy to get rid of them. Spare everyone the trouble of another him.

As often as Error was met with Classic, however, it wasn’t until his last Genocide that he actually struck up what might be called a “friendship” – admittedly, Error had never quite figured out the meaning of the word despite Blue’s attempts to teach him (though, Blue had also admitted that their whole “friendship” was a ploy, back in the day, before there was another error in the universe, so, really, who was to say what he knew) – but, sometimes, it was hard to tell if people really wanted to hang out with him or if he was just holding them captive on accident. Again.

It was especially complicated when Error was Classic’s “ride,” if you will. Classic had completely forbidden Error from spending time in his universe – which was insulting as much as it was understandable – and Error had forbidden the two from spending time in the anti-void – because the last thing he needed was another Blue situation – so the two, often, passed their hours in other universes, particularly Outertale. Not every Sans had the ability to travel from universe to universe, however – and thank the fucking stars for that. There’s no telling what kind of universes would be made if people could just go wherever they pleased – so Error was Classic’s taxi to the rest of the multiverse. It created a bit of an odd power dynamic that Error, admittedly, kind of enjoyed; he could go see Classic whenever he wanted, but Classic would always have to wait for him to show up first. If that’s what friendship was, then maybe it wasn’t so bad, after all.

Either way, Classic was everything that the rest of the multiverse wasn’t in that, unlike everyone else, he was meant to be there.

In all honesty, Error didn’t particularly enjoy the actual personality of his companion – there was something about it that made his bones buzz unpleasantly, like static, and reminded him of a past long gone and just out of memory’s reach – but it was so impossibly rare to meet someone that wasn’t an anomaly that Error found himself enjoying Classic’s company nonetheless.

Which was why – as he normally did when he was too caught up in his own thoughts to realise what he was doing – Error found himself stepping through a glitch in the fabric of the multiverse, met with the pleasant sound of snow crunching beneath his slipper. The slush immediately soaked through his shoes, chilling his toes and making him shiver with glitches. He peered upwards at the blurred cavern ceiling that hung above, dappled with the sparkling cyan gems that he used to pretend were stars; it was easier now, to pretend, when his vision was so awful. Though, even then, nothing compared to the real thing, and what was the use of pretending when, now, he could access the stars with a mere flick of the wrist?

With that same unconsciousness that came with years of habit, Error, after a short walk, easily found himself before the forest’s sentry station, where a nearly identical copy – if you ignored the marks of the anti-void or their lack thereof – snoozed away his shift, as he always did.

“Hey,” he called, voice particularly distorted with his effort to project, and a pleased smile fell over his face as the sound effectively roused his companion.

The skeleton blinked awake with that same bleary slowness that all tale Sanses did, rubbing the sleep from his sockets with a closed-mouth yawn. It took him a moment to register what had woken him as he shook the snow that had fallen onto his skull back to the ground, and his smile widened at the sight of the glitch before him. Admittedly, it was a welcome change in greeting than the usual wariness or screams that he received in the typical universe, but, then again, Classic had always been a special case in every way involving Error.

“Hey,” he returned, in that same languid tone as always. “Long time snow see.”

With a distorted bark of laughter, Error returned, “Yeah. It’s ice to see you again.”

“Good one,” Classic snickered. He stretched, slowly, filling the air with the soft pop of bones, then, as if to refute his efforts, hunched right back over into the same horrible position as before; head leaned on his arms, looking like he was still half asleep which, knowing him, he probably was. “Seriously. It’s been a while. Where’ve you been? Or do I wanna know?”

“Busy,” was all he answered, and the strings that stuck to his cheeks itched at the notion.

Sockets slipping shut in a poorly concealed cringe, Classic hummed. “I guess I don’t.”

“We’re going to see the stars,” Error said, instead of responding. With a flick of his wrist, a door opened to the rest of the multiverse, and the dark vastness of space shone through, spotted with all manner of colourful stars, both big and small; the heat of their presence could be felt through the opening, and the feeling prompted Classic to sit up.

He peered through the portal with that same uncertain fascination as he always did, eyelights darting over each celestial body with increasing longing. Nevertheless, when he managed to tear his gaze from the beyond and back to what was right in front of him, he fixed Error was a peculiar look with squinted sockets. “That a request?”

Error followed suit in his expression, head cocked to the side. “What?”

“Are you asking me to go?” he elaborated with an almost mocking deliberation. “Or making me?”

With a confused shake of his head, Error glanced back at the expanse of space for a moment before returning his gaze to the other him. His eyelights moved over his face, in the same way Classic’s did to the stars, as if searching for something. “Don’t you want to?”

For reasons Error couldn’t possibly hope to discern, Classic seemed to relax at the question, his expression turning back to that half-lidded smile. Having friends was weird. “I guess I can make some space in my schedule,” he said. “Beats working.”

“You were sleeping,” Error corrected with another confused frown.

“Yeah,” Classic agreed before, with a shit-eating grin that gave Error a better idea of why Papyrus was so annoyed all the time, “on the job.”

Frowning, Error let out a distorted sigh and considered how attached he really was to the multiverse’s veritable “original.” Attached enough, perhaps. It was fortunate that Classic was, overall, quiet, especially when faced with the silence-inspiring view of the stars that he was so seldom met with in his own universe, or, at least, not in ways that he properly remembered. Surrounded by something so vast and beautiful, what was there to say? Words seemed meaningless, small; som

“Are you coming or not?” Error grumbled, jerking his head towards the portal.

Finally standing to his feet – which, hilariously, didn’t grant him much extra height compared to when he’d been sitting – Classic nodded shortly and flashed him yet another grin. “Not in the mood for comet-y, are we?” he huffed. “Yeah, I’m comin’.”

Without gracing the pun with a response – though, admittedly, it had been a good one – Error stepped into the other universe. Immediately, the distinction between the soggy snow beneath his feet and the crumbly softness of the planet’s surface was clear, and, despite the distinct lack of oxygen, it felt easier to breathe. They’d ended up where they always did when they went to Outertale: some place on the other side of the planet, where the sun didn’t touch and, so, neither did the monsters. Without the mark of monsterkind, the planet itself was overwhelmingly grey, feeling rather underwhelming in comparison to the infinite picture of stars, and planets, and space dust that sprawled outwards before them, impossibly more vibrant and colourful once the portal snapped shut behind them and shut out the light of Snowdin. Though, Error supposed, just about anything would feel underwhelming in the face of something like this. Even he felt small beneath the expanse.

“I always forget how big it is,” Classic mumbled from somewhere close behind, and Error couldn't help but jump at the sound.

In a wave of glitches, he glanced back towards his companion. There was something about space – about being faced with what he could never have – that seemed to make Classic vulnerable in a way that Error hated; the way that he stared out into the void that somehow felt kinder than the other voids lacked that guarded nature – that wall – that usually stood so unwaveringly. It was a display of genuineness that Error didn’t quite feel he deserved, though he couldn’t say why.

Tearing his gaze from the other him, Error forced himself to peer at the stars once more, focusing on a particularly vivid patch of space dust. “It’s infinite,” he hummed. “‘Course it’s big.”

“Infinite’s a terrible descriptor,” Classic said with a huff of laughter. He carefully sat himself on the planet’s sheer edge, legs swinging in the open space with that characteristic recklessness that Error couldn’t help but wonder if it, from time to time, could be attributed to a certain call of the void that he, too, experienced. “It’s meaningless,” he continued. “So large that it’s incomprehensible.”

Following Classic’s example, Error perched himself on the edge. It was more of a crouch than a sit, really, leaving plenty of space and the ability to leap up and away should he need to. The first few times he’d done it, Classic had questioned the behaviour, and Error hadn’t really known how to answer. Now, the other skeleton didn’t even bat an eye. It was nice to be understood; or, if not understood, at least tolerated for his peculiarities. Maybe that was enough.

“This is nothing compared to the rest of the multiverse,” he finally answered. “Just an infinity inside of an infinity.”

The words were met with a shiver so subtle that Error might not have picked up on it if Classic weren’t so exactly like him. “Geez,” he said, with a bit of a breathless laugh. “Existential.”

“Existential?” he echoed, browbones furrowing as he peered back at his companion.

“Yeah,” Classic confirmed. “Makes you feel meaningless, knowing how small a part of the multiverse you are. So small you can’t even comprehend just how massive the rest of it is.”

A short huff of laughter fell from Error. “Everyone’s equally a part of infinity.”

“Equally meaningless, maybe,” came the grumble.

Another snort. “Yeah, most of ‘em.” His eyelights turned back towards the multiverse’s pocket infinity. The view was blurry without his glasses, but maybe it was the bigger picture that mattered more than the parts of it. What did it matter if he was missing a few stars? “It’s crazy how unlikely it is that some of these universes should exist, but they’re here, anyway.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh, yeah,” Error huffed. He ran his hand over the rough ground beneath him, rolling a pebble around with the tip of his finger in an unconscious attempt to dispel the frustrated energy that was building in him at the conversation topic. “Like, Underswap – the one where you and your bro are, like… swapped around – you wanna know how likely that is to exist?”

“I get the feeling you’re going to tell me either way,” Classic mumbled, but Error ignored him.

“It’s a probability of 1 divided by 9,109,043,495. It shouldn’t have happened, but it did.” His fingers habitually moved up towards his sockets, running over the grooves left by his strings and blinking away magic. “Isn’t that ridiculous? It’s like the multiverse is just trying to spite me; to spite itself.”

“That’s pretty incredible, actually.” The words were accompanied by a shuffling sound, and Error peeked towards the other, idly noting the way that he’d pulled his legs up into a cross-legged position.

“Incredibly annoying, maybe,” he grumbled.

For reasons Error didn’t quite understand, his frustration earned a laugh. “If something with such a low probability of existing, nevertheless, exists, then I guess it’s got to have meaning, after all. Maybe we all do, even in unquantifiable, improbable infinity,” Classic snickered. That thoughtful vulnerability was back in his gaze, and Error watched his eyelights trace invisible constellations. “You’ve got a real interesting way of reassuring someone, you know.”

Frowning, Error cocked his head to the side. “What? Who am I reassuring? Of what?”

#blaise writes #undertale #undertale au #error sans #errortale #sans #sans au #sans undertale #undertale fanart #undertale fanfiction #fanfiction #god i've missed writing for this fandom #it's been too damn long

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inkskinned · 1 year

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you're in the habit of denying yourself things.

if someone asked you directly, you would say that you love a little treat. you like iced coffee and getting the cookie. you drink juice out of a fancy cup sometimes, and often do use your candles until they gutter out helplessly.

but you hesitate about buying the 20 dollar hand mixer because, like. you could just use your arms. you weren't raised rich. you don't get to just spend the 20 dollars (remember when that could cover lunch?), at least - you don't spend that without agonizing over it first, trying to figure out the cost-benefits like you are defending yourself in front of a jury. yes, this rice cooker could seriously help you. but you do know how to make stovetop rice and it really isn't that hard. how many pies or brownies would you actually make, in order to make that hand mixer worthwhile?

what's wild is that if the money was for a friend, it would already be spent. you'd fork over 40 without blinking an eye, just to make them happy. the difference is that it's for you, so you need to justify it.

and it sneaks in. you ration yourself without meaning to - you don't finish the pint of ice cream, even though you want to. the next time you go to the store, you say ah, i really shouldn't, and then you walk away. you save little bits of your precious things - just in case. sometimes you even go so far as putting that one thing in your shopping cart. and then just leaving it there, because maybe-one-day, but not right now, there's other stuff going on.

you do self-care, of course. but you don't do it more than like, 3 days in a row. after that it just feels a little bit over-the-edge. like. you can't live in decadence, the economy is so bad right now, kid.

so you don't buy the rice cooker. you can-and-will spend the time over the stove. you can withstand the little sorrows. denial and discipline are practically synonyms. and you're not spoiled.

it's just - it's not always a rice cooker. sometimes it is a person or a job or a hug. sometimes it is asking for help. sometimes it is the summer and your college degree. sometimes it is looking down at scabbed knees and feeling a strange kind of falling, like you can't even recognize the girl you used to be. sometimes it is your handprint looking unsteady.

sometimes it is tuesday, and you didn't get fired, and you want to celebrate. but what is it you like, even? you search around your little heart and come up empty. you're so used to denying that all your desires draw a blank.

oh fuck. see, this is the perfect opportunity. if you had a mixer, you'd make a cake.

#warm up #this isn't good #writeblr #this is complicated by the fact i can't stand up too long or i fuckken pass out and <3 hit my damn head <3 #but i did take a deep breath and buy myself the stupid rice cooker #and!!! a very cheap sushi kit!!! i have been wanting to try making sushi for literally YEARS #the kit was only like 15 dollars!!!! and i haven't purchased it bc?!!??!?!?!?!!?#..... i didn't get the mixer tho that felt. like a lot. like too much.#on my list is a kitchenaid. one day when i get a check and i have paid off my student debt #and medical debt #i will put that first little bit of cash #into a kitchenaid 5qt stand mixer (with attachments)#i really do just go into their refurbished section and stare lustily at each option #but yeah i feel guilty about the rice cooker even tho i know for a fact this damn thing is gonna be a lifesaver #oh shit also fuck i forgot to mention . poached eggs

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